Just an FYI before my story, I know it's long, but I wanted to get this all off my chest and have a new, clean slate. It's been difficult to put into words and cope with everything but in order to move on I needed to write what I had in my head first. Thanks for reading if you do finish it. I appreciate it.

My fiance and I were trying to conceive for almost a year. I have irregular cycles so deciphering when I'm ovulating and when my period is going to show up is always a guessing game for me; however, we tried watching ovulation, estimating periods, trying preseed, being healthy, and having sex as often as we could.

Then February happened, eleven months after we had first started trying.

At this point we'd had eleven negatives and with each one both of us had become so disheartened. Pregnancy was taught to be so easy in school, in movies, and in books but here we were in our mid-twenties with eleven months of negatives.

In January, after finally achieving ovulation for the first time in months during December, I missed my period for nearly the entire month. I thought for sure that we'd finally done it. I had hard, swollen breasts, my nipples so painful. I felt bloated. But every test I took was negative. During this I tried three different brands, five different tests from all three brands. Every single one was negative. Maybe it was just too early to tell, I thought.

The second week of February comes, I had a small amount of spotting in the early morning but went away. No big deal. The night before my fiance and I had sex. We both had agreed it was off - my cervix so low he could barely get two inches in. It had been high before this.

I was at work when I began just pouring blood, filling a pad almost every half hour to hour. Cramps like I've never experienced before and clots the size of a quarter just falling out every fifteen minutes.

I spent four days like this. I was in so much pain. I cried with every cramp, every clot, and I was crying because I'd been so sure.

On day four I decided to go to the emergency room because it stayed consistant and wouldn't stop. They tested me with only a urine test, which was of course negative as so many had been before.

It was during the six hours of being there that I finally bled out a clot the size of my fist that the bleeding slowed down, the cramping began to stop, and I finally had some peace.

It was a medical mystery apparently. They didn't do any further tests and essentially sent me home with the diagnosis of "abnormal vaginal bleeding."

For the next four months I fell into a spiral of depression and resentment for my body who seemingly was betraying me and refused to do the one thing it was supposed to be able to do. At night I would have night terrors about what occured and even now, I still do even after a few months of therapy.

I began having suicidal thoughts. In a matter of four months I fell into the deepest pit I'd even fallen into. I'd experienced depression in the past. I'd experienced mood swings. I'd experienced anxiety. But nothing could compare to what I was feeling. Everyone I spoke to told me "You weren't pregnant, there's nothing to be upset about." Or my favorite - "You're still young, experience being an adult for a little while longer."

When my then boss confronted me about why I was suddenly unable to complete tasks or reach goals and was on the border of being let go from my position, I decided to get help for mental health.

On the day of my appointment with my doctor, I had assumed I would be given some form of antidepressant if anything at all. I didn't expect anything from a normal visit.

I still remember feeling so light headed yet so tense as I told her what was going on in my head. She could not of been more perfect. She listened so intently, she never questioned me, she never gave the impression that she didn't believe me.

My doctor recommended I do an inpatient stay to be able to get a better understanding as well as adjust to any medications they would prescribe. Inevitably I did an outpatient program for two weeks instead but it was there that I was diagnosed with two mental disorders. I was prescribed medication and for the first time since February I'm able to say that I feel life is worth living for.

My fiance and family have been so, so, so wonderful and kind and understanding. They've supported me, been there to hold me and wipe away my tears. My fiance has been my rock and has laid down my stepping stones for every stride forward I've had to take - especially now that I'm no longer working due to my mental health. I would not be here if it wasn't for their love and support combined.

In the last eight months I've lived in a dark place. But from that dark place I've learned how to accept what happened. It's from that pit that I discovered forgiveness is more than just for other people. It's for me too. I've had to forgive myself for the torment I put myself through and the hell I forced on my body.

In September we pondered on the idea of trying again. I'm not ready to and I think that's okay. I don't know if I'll ever be ready but all I can do is continue to get better and be the best version of myself in this new normal.

If anything new happens or anyone comments, I'll be sure to update. Much love and thanks for listening. ❤❤❤